


The New Prince of Lucis

by ohmyfae



Series: Imperial!Noct AU [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Everyone is happy and Noct gets laid, M/M, There's a bit of smut but not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: Set three years after the events of the Imperial!Noctis AU, Noct attends a festival celebrating the feats of one of his old friends, gets covered in glitter, and learns a few things about himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "It's over!" I said last night.  
> "Wait, no, one more thing," I said this morning.  
> This was my first idea for an epilogue, actually. I just had to write it.

It was three years after the Oracle had purified the Starscourge, and Noctis was running late. 

He ducked under banners and strings of white lights, gripping his cloak tight about his shoulders. It was a useless piece of clothing, but Ignis had insisted that he wear something _flashy,_ so here he was, his cloak flapping behind him like the wings of a crow as he navigated the crowd in front of the Citadel.

“It’s the prince!” Noct spun round at the sound of a small girl squeaking in delight, and raised a finger to his lips. “You’re gonna miss the _parade,_ your highness!”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there!” Noct insisted. Most of the crowd consisted of teens and children, all of them holding up lamps, lanterns, flashlights and mobile phones. It was like moving through a sea of light, and Noct couldn’t help but smile to himself as they all turned to him, watching his progress. He finally made it to his post at the front of a fountain, and climbed onto the lip of it, eliciting a chorus of scandalized gasps from the kids around him. 

“You ain’t _allowed!_ ” A boy whispered.

“Of course I am,” Noct said. “I’m the prince. Come on, join me if you want.”

The parents who lined the plaza stared at him balefully as children scrambled up to stand on the fountain with the prince of Lucis, but not many objected. Noct looked up at the dark sky above Insomnia and stroked his beard in melodramatic thoughtfulness.

“What do you say, guys?” he asked, pitching his voice above the crowd. Everyone quieted, watching him intently. “Think it’s almost midnight?”

“It’s eleven fifty-nine!” A child shouted, to a chorus of giggling. Noct held up a hand, counting down.

“Everyone ready?” Noct shouted. The adults on the edge of the square exchanged anxious looks, but the children all held up their lanterns and flashlights with a collective cry of assent. “Okay. Three… two… one!”

“Lights out!” the children shouted. Flashlights and phones flicked off. Candles and lanterns were hurriedly snuffed. When the last stragglers were pressured into dousing their lights, there were muffled shrieks and shushes throughout the crowded square as the houselights around them turned off one by one, leaving them in pitch darkness. 

“Here come the daemons!” Noct shouted. His cry was repeated by other adults along the road, muffled by the press of bodies along the sidewalks and on the roofs of neighboring houses. There was a rustle of movement as the kids turned to see a strange procession stumble up the unlit streets of Insomnia. People in elaborate costumes, some on stilts, some crouching, some joined by others in massive links of synthetic plastics, feathers, and lights, danced and shuffled along the street. Bright red eyes flickered in a fanciful recreation of a Red Giant, complete with fake fire trailing from its feet. A dragon swung through crowds and snapped green teeth at shrieking children. Noct had to stop himself from laughing outright at the Flans, which were little more than kids covered in glowing sheets, and a massive float bearing one of the legendary behemoths of the wilds roared and spat flame. 

A little boy held onto Noct’s leg, and he dutifully lifted him up, wincing at his vice-like grip at the collar of his cloak.

“The Oracle!” one of the kids shouted. “The Oracle’s here!”

Cries of delight in the street grew louder as a young girl darted into the procession. She wore a dress that shone a bright, shimmering gold, a crown of lights in her dark hair, and her arms and hands sparkled with copper that twinkled and flashed as she ran. She smacked her hands on one of the daemons, and the daemon’s costume gradually fountained into bright gold scales. The person in the costume held out their arms, and it transformed into a flowing gown and a helmet shaped like a bird of prey. The girl playing the Oracle smacked another costume, which also transformed in a glare of gold and white. By the time she made it to the top of the hill where the behemoth was, the entire street was a river of light. 

The behemoth made the most stunning transformation. Scales slid back, metal clanked, the red eyes closed up and withdrew. By the time it had changed entirely, it was a throne backed by an image of the moon, and the float shone with tiny lights like a starlit sky. The girl playing the Oracle ascended the float and sat on the throne, and the crowd cheered and screamed as fireworks set off throughout the city, wreathing the sky in smoke and fire. Confetti flew from windows and burst from canons, and the adults helped light sparklers for the older children to hold.

Noct applauded around the boy in his arms, who stared at it all as though it were an act of true magic. 

Which it was, in a way. 

Noctis lingered after the festival was over, making sure that exhausted children made it back to the right guardians, ferreting teens out from under the float, and formally thanking the girl in the Oracle costume. She told him in a shaky, heavily accented voice that she was Clara, a refugee from Niflheim, and that she was honored, really, sir, honored to be here at all.

“You’re from Gralea?” Noct asked. She nodded, eyes wide. “My best friend’s from there.” 

She blushed and stammered, and Noct handed her a card. “It’s an official line,” he said, “but you can get to me if you wait long enough. You live in the lower district, yeah? Let me know if there’s anything you guys need.”

She beamed. “Right,” she said. Then she turned and ran, holding her hands to her red cheeks while her friends called out to her. _Clara, you goose! You were talking to the prince!_

“Never thought you’d be good with kids,” said a voice from just over Noct’s shoulder. He stood, turning to face Nyx Ulric, captain of the Kingsglaive. “The world is full of surprises.”

“Never thought you’d make such a convincing daemon,” Noct said. He swiped a hand over the makeup under Nyx’s eyes. “What were you, the dragon?”

“Iron Giant,” Nyx said. “I told you last week. Come on, Crowe invited us to drinks. You’re paying.”

“Of course I am,” Noct said, and swung an arm around the Glaive. 

“The burden of office is a hell of a thing, your highness.”

 

Noct did _try_ to pay for drinks, but the man at the bar wasn’t having it. Ever since Noct had started taking an active role in the Council, he’d become a thorn in the officer of the treasury’s side, pressuring for more funding and services for refugees and immigrants living below the upper districts. It was a slow process, but he’d found that being the prince who helped defeat the Scourge had _some_ benefits, and there were already noticeable changes being made. He wasn’t sure who revealed the name of the new advocate in the slums and lower districts, but he had a few guesses. As it was, it was getting harder to pay for _anything_ these days.

At their usual food court, Crowe had collected half the Kingsglaive still in residence into a set of two rickety tables. Noct and Nyx joined her, and the group closed around them like a fist. They pressured Nyx and the prince for stories of the journey they’d taken three years back, never mind that most of them had heard bits and pieces before. Nyx was regaling them with yet another tale of Noct passing out at the worst possible time, when Noct grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved his head against his neck in a drunken attempt to shut him up. 

“Still not strong enough to silence _me,_ kid,” Nyx said, bracing his hands on Noct’s chest. He grabbed the prince’s face and kissed him sloppily on the mouth, all heat and breath and the chalky taste of costume makeup. Then he turned back to the others as though they weren’t all shouting in glee, and slammed his hand on the table.

“As I was saying, Noctis was out cold in the middle of the ocean…”

 

“We really should talk about this,” Noct said, as Nyx pressed him against the wall in the stacked row of apartments the soldier called home. Dawn was only just breaking, and the two of them were a mess of smudged makeup, flecks of confetti, and a surprising amount of glitter. Nyx shrugged and bit down on the side of the prince’s neck, and was rewarded with a sharp hiss of breath.

“We’ve been talking for four years.” Nyx lifted the younger man up by the hips, pressing down on him so that the heat of their touch rose up Noct’s spine. They kissed again, with more care this time, and Nyx grinned. “Astrals, do you _condition_ your beard, or is this some magical Lucis Caelum bullshit?”

“Charming,” Noct said, dryly, and laughed as the other man pushed him off the wall, fumbling with his belt. 

They ended up tangled together in the bed, half clothed and languid with the heady exhaustion of staying out past dawn. Noct found himself laughing, curled up against Nyx’s chest, and the older man ran a hand through his messy hair until his breathing finally evened out.

“Don’t tell me I’m that bad,” he said, absently. Noct snorted.

“Oh, terrible,” Noct said. “Very disappointing. You’ll have to make it up to me later.”

“Don’t order _me_ around,” Nyx said, in a low voice. He smiled into Noct’s shoulder. “You’re just a Nif with delusions of grandeur.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an insubordinate asshole,” Noct said. “But that’s fine.”

They lay in silence for what felt like half a minute before Noct’s phone alarm went off. 

“Oh, fuck,” Noct moaned. “It’s five-fifty.”

Nyx rolled onto his stomach and ran a hand over his face. “I should get up, too. This makeup takes forever to rinse off.”

“Thanks for that,” Noct said. 

They jostled for space in the small bathroom, and Nyx opted to wash his face off in the shower while Noct slouched over sink. The prince scrubbed off the worst of the mess, frowned at the tangle of braids and ties in his hair, and examined his face in the mirror. He smiled, faintly, and drew back.

“What’s that look for?” Nyx asked, but Noct only shrugged and turned to recover his clothes. 

They walked to the Citadel together, Noct shaking glitter from his cloak, Nyx looking smart and polished in his pressed uniform. When the guards at the gate saw Noct’s mussed state and dark eyes, they smirked and bowed him through.

“Here comes the rumor mill,” Noct muttered. The captain laughed, and placed a hand on the small of his back as they entered the narrow outer hallways of the Citadel. They parted ways there, and Noct watched the older man go, amused at the slight spring in Nyx’s step that hadn’t been there before.

“Prince Noctis.” Noct turned, saw a page girl trotting towards him, and tried to replace his smug grin with something more presentable. He wasn’t sure how effective it was—the page risked a smile at him before handing him a message.

“Oh, it’s from Clarus,” he said, frowning slightly. “Wonderful. He requests my presence at the training yards an hour ago. I’ll just use my handy time manipulating magic to—“ The page giggled, and he glanced at her sidelong. “I _can_ hear you. Lorna, right?”

“I’m Lorna’s sister, Gert,” said the page.

“Shit, I forgot. Oh, hell, don’t repeat that,” he said, when the page covered her mouth to suppress another laugh. “Tell him I’ll be there, thank you _so_ much, I _grovel_ at his feet, the usual.”

“In those exact words, your highness?”

“Don’t be smart. It’s too early for that.” Noct slipped the page a tip and patted her lightly on the shoulder as she ran off. _Gert,_ right. Ignis kept assuring Noct that it wasn’t his _job_ to remember the names of everyone in the palace, but Noct had learned that the more you paid attention to the people in the background, the ones everyone else considered to be a part of the scenery, the more you knew about… well, everything. What would have happened to Noct if someone had bothered to learn _his_ name, when he was just Ardyn’s shadow? 

Noct smiled to himself, thinking of that intense, anxious boy he used to be. The twenty-three year-old prince of Lucis would have been a complete stranger to him: Too open, too free with his emotions. He was more likely to wield a fishing rod than a sword, these days, even though Gladio _did_ insist on a regular sparring schedule. And he’d found that he _enjoyed_ being a prince. He’d never get used to the pomp and formality of addresses and ceremonies, but years of watching Ardyn had taught him how to deal with the most hard-headed political opponents, and results like last night’s festival and the reforms being made in the slums made him feel like he was stepping further away from the path that Ardyn—and even the Astrals—wanted for him. There was nothing quite so motivating as the thought that one might be ticking off a god just by existing.

Gladio was sitting on a fence in the training yards with his dog, Eilonwy, looking three kinds of smug. 

“Nyx Ulric, huh?” he asked, as Noct approached. Noct groaned. Of _course_ Gladio would know. The man should be a _spymaster._ “So. How’d it go?” He smirked, and reached out to pat the still untidy braids that curved up to Noct’s mess of a bun. 

“I’m _not_ going to give you the details of my _sex_ life, Gladio,” Noct said. 

“I certainly hope you won’t,” said a dry, deep voice from behind them. Noct turned to see Clarus Amicitia there, brows raised, mouth pressed in a tight line. 

Fucking _hells._

“Mr. Amicitia,” Noct said, in a too-bright voice. “Aren’t _you_ a sight worth waking up for.”

“I was told you were inclined to grovel,” Clarus said. “I must say, I won’t object.”

Noct bowed. “I am your servant, as always,” he said, and laughed at the stream of glitter that cascaded from his hair and onto his shoulders. Clarus scowled. Gladio snorted. Noct swept up from his bow with a flourish, and smiled up at Clarus as though greeting an old friend. All things considered, he had a feeling that this was going to be a _very_ eventful day indeed. He just had to make sure he survived it.


End file.
